


Christmas Lights

by Loracine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:06:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9142210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loracine/pseuds/Loracine
Summary: Prompt: christmas lightsWincest Writing Challenge, December 2016





	

He didn’t know why he’d kept it. He couldn’t remember why he’d taken it in the first place. If pressed, he would say they’d been in Tucson when he’d seen them sitting on the shelf in the middle of an August heat wave, but he honestly has no idea what dusty state it had been all those years ago, much less the name of the town. He’d never plugged it in, not that he could recall. Regardless, he’d coiled it up and stuffed the colorful bundle into the bottom of every duffel he’d owned since.

But, it was a week till Christmas and his little dorm room didn’t have a single decoration in it, nothing but his clothing in the closet to prove someone was in residence. The boy pulled his threadbare duffel from beneath the bed, plunging his hand inside. His fist emerged with his string of Christmas lights, tightly wound just as he’d packed it in that dirty motel room. He wasn’t even sure the bulbs would light, but he stood up from his seat on the bed with a purpose.

With a little tape and some ingenuity, he soon had lined his single small window twice over with a short length wandering off to one side in order to reach the plug. He really wished he could afford a tree, maybe some ornaments to go on the fragrant branches. His lights might have looked cheerful wrapped around a small douglas fir or white spruce. Not for the first time, he wondered where the remnants of his family were and if they were safe. He wondered what they were hunting. He wondered if they were still alive.

The boy held his breath as he plugged it into the wall. The brittle smile that broke out on his face was soon bathed in twinkling reds and blues and greens, shimmering on the moisture collecting in his eyes. Three thousand miles away from where he’d left home and he’d finally figured out that home hadn’t been a place. His home had been a person, a boy only four years older than himself. He looked down at the phone in his hand, the neon green of the cheap screen glowing softly, and dialed a number he knew by heart.

He held his breath as he waited for the other end to pick up.


End file.
